Nightlife by Rob Thurman
by efphrim
Summary: Nightlife By Rob Thurman.


**Nightlife**

**By**

**Rob Thurman**

**Disclaimer: In no way, shape, or form do I own Nightlife or take credit for it.**

**Copyright: Roc**

**Published by New American Library a division of the Penguin Group**

**Penguin Group (USA) Inc.**

**375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA**

**THIS IS DONE PURELY FOR INFORMATIONAL, AND PROMOTIONAL PURPOSES. IN NO WAY DO I RECIEVE ANY KIND OF PAYMENT!**

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_People... they do the craziest shit.  
Yeah, I know. It's not the most elegant observation. But considering I was making it with a knife blade buried in my stomack, kudos to me. Although I had to say it didn't hurt as much as I would've expected. In fact it didn't hurt at all. It was just cold... cold and numb, like I had a belly full of ice water.  
It was the touch of a much warmer liquid that let me know differently. It was blood. My blood. I tightened my hand over the one that held the knife handle. The blood covered both of our hands, his and mine. He'd actually done it... stabbed me. Not that that was the crazy part. It wasn't, not by a long shot. No, the crazy part, the howling-at-the-moon madness was that he had tried so hard to avoid it. But wasn't that my brother all over? Honest, loyal, all but rolling in integrity. Too good for his own good. But, hell, in the end, too good for _my_ good as well.  
"Well," I said ruefully. "Look at that." Then my knees and fall to them, sliding of the blade easy as you please. There was the kiss of metal and then only gaping emptiness as I fell. Letting go of his hand, I covered the wound in my abdomen. It was strange how the blood felt so warm while I felt all but frozen. I looked up into eyes the same color as mine, pale gray as a winter sky. Curling up the side of my mouth, I gave him a half smile. "My mistake. I guess you have the balls after all. Good for you big brother."  
The blade dropped from his hand to clatter on the floor with the metallic, ringing peal of a bell.  
"What? No souvenir?" I asked curiously. The words came out slurred and thick, heavy and fading. Like me. Fading and fading fast. A morning mist dissipating in the rising sun. A broken bird plunging from the sky. A scuttling dark thing fleeing the light of day. Shit, I should've been writing some of this down. Dying really brought out the poet in me.  
I heard the gate close, a thunderous and oddly final sound that threatened to bring the building down. The walls shook with a peculiar rippling effect that rose from floor to ceiling, and plaster and metal began droping like rain. If you had to go, might as well go out with a bang. "Better run, Chiken Little. The sky's falling." Fairy-tale words with a predator bite. They weren't deep, not meaningful, but they had teeth. And like any good predator I wanted to go out with blood in my mouth.  
Naturally he didn't run. Heros don't do that. And apparently neither do brothers. Hands gripped me and I was flung over a shoulder in a fireman's carry before I could even take a swing at him. Of course, that was making the assumption that I had enough life left in me to make a fist. As assumptions went, they don't come much bigger. Then he was running, jolting me up and down. Behind us I could see monsters boiling in fustration, rushing at where the gate hung, impenetrable. This time it was closed for good and they knew it. To a one every narrow pointed face turned in our direction, every molten-lava eye seething with bloodlust and a poisonous, black hatred. Like an ocean wave they came after us, a riptide of murderous intent. Monsters, they didn't handle disapointment well. I should know.  
I was one._

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_There are monsters among us. There always have been always will be. I've known that since I can remeber, just like I've always known I was one..._

_...Well half of one, anyway._

Welcome to the Big Apple. There's a troll under the Brooklyn Bridge, a boggle in Central Park, and a beautiful vampire in a penthouse on the Upper East Side-- and that's only the beginning. Of course, most humans are oblivious to the preternatural nightlife around them, but Cal Leandros is only half human.

His father's dark lineage is the stuff of nightmares-- and he and his entire otherworldly race are after Cal. Why? Cal hasn't exactly wanted to stick around long enough to find out.

He and his half brother, Niko, have managed to stay a step ahead for four years, but now Cal's dad has found them again. And Cal is about to learn why they want him, why they've _always_ wanted him: He is the key to unleashing their hell on earth. The fate of the human world will be decided in the fight of Cal's life.

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**I don't expect reveiws, nor do I want them considering this is not my work. If you would like more info on the book email me and I'll see what I can do.**


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